


Eros

by brightingales (zoeteniets)



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: M/M, Pickpockets, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 07:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeteniets/pseuds/brightingales
Summary: Eros was, in Greek mythology, one of the winged love gods. Also known as Cupid in Roman mythology, he caused mortals to form love bonds and was often depicted as being particularly mischievous.Romeo can see that James is miserable without Harry and decides to do something about it. Or, James thinks that he's going to spend New Year's Eve all alone. He is wrong.





	Eros

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Christy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christy/gifts).



Oh wow, this has been sitting in my inbox for ages… sorry! Hope you like it!

Posted for [@happyjarryholidays](https://tmblr.co/mAUQ3mL_rxU78cPd49yL9ig) Day 5: Alone – “Lonely this Christmas”

“I thought big, important, ‘hot-shot’ lawyers were meant to have their lives together,” Romeo says, looking at the state of the flat with a derisive curl of his lip, “but I can see that you are just as pathetic as the rest of us mere mortals.”

It’s clear from his joking tone of voice that Romeo doesn’t mean it as a slight against him. Still, James almost certainly would have taken an insult like that completely the wrong way just a short while ago. But now, after a few weeks and a lot of emotional work, he can recognize Romeo’s acerbic sense of humour for what it is – Romeo hides his own faults by pointing out other people’s and expresses his affection through gentle teasing just in case his feelings are not reciprocated.

Christ, James is even starting to sound like his son and his cod-psychology now…

“Are you here to say anything useful or did you just come to take the mick out of your poor old Dad?” James says, giving as good as he gets. He wraps his silk dressing gown tighter around himself, throws himself onto the sofa (with perhaps a little too much ‘dramatic effect’) and goes back to the coffee he was drinking before Romeo showed up at his door.

He pretends not to notice the fact that the mug is dirty. Everything is, really. There is a pile of dishes in the sink and dust lining the bookshelves. A stack of newspapers lies discarded on the living room floor and his curtains haven’t been drawn for a week.

Romeo steps around the mess and sits down on the arm of the sofa, fixing James with a look halfway between pity and exasperation.

“Look, I know this Christmas didn’t exactly turn out the way you wanted it too…”

An understatement; James had once foolishly entertained dreams of spending Christmas curled up on this same sofa with Harry safe and warm in his arms. Instead, he had spent the whole day utterly alone, looking at the empty four walls of his flat, his fingers hovering over Harry’s number in his phone as he warred with himself about whether to call his former lover or not.

“… but you can’t just sit here and mope forever,” Romeo continues. “It’s starting to get a bit ridiculous. You’ve become the living embodiment of the most depressing Christmas song ever.” Romeo’s smile is sympathetic, but there is also a hint of concern behind his eyes. It’s that, more than anything else, that makes James finally sit up and take note.

“Things really are dire if I’m being told off for being lovelorn by a teenager,” James says. It’s surprising but bantering with his son has come fairly naturally to him. “A teenager named Romeo, no less…”

James pulls himself off the sofa and downs the coffee in his mug, grimacing as he finds that it has gone cold.

“What do you propose I do?” James asks.

“We should clean up, first. Then coffee. And then, you’re going to come to the New Year’s party that Prince and Lilly are hosting at The Dog…”

James opens his mouth to protest but Romeo doesn’t let him get a word in.

“…I’m not taking no for an answer. You need to get out there and show the village that you’ve not been totally crushed. You’re James Nightingale! You’re better than this,” Romeo finishes with a sigh, gesturing at the state of both the flat and James.  

He knows Romeo is right, but that still doesn’t mean that James wants to hang out with a bunch of adolescents.

Still, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

“Since it’s your idea you can get started while I take a shower,” James tells Romeo. “Cleaning stuff is under the sink. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Fine, but I’m putting some music on and I’m choosing the playlist!”

…

It takes them nearly the whole afternoon. James had briefly worried that being trapped in his flat with Romeo with nothing to do but clean and talk would be torture but it’s actually been very nice to sort his life out while not being totally alone. Romeo’s playlist is full of classic and indie rock, and while James would never have picked the songs himself the thrum of guitars and beat of the drums motivates him to finish the work.

His mind is pleasantly occupied in a way that it hasn’t been for weeks. Even when his thoughts inevitably drift towards Harry his heart turns to fondness rather than to bitterness, as it has done ever since Harry left. He can’t help but wonder where Harry is, what he’s doing, who he is with. And he will always worry that Harry is safe.

But while these thoughts had previously been tinged with resentment, now they taste like guilt and longing. It’s not better. It’s not easier. But it’s not worse. And every time James is at risk of spiralling down into morose thoughts, Romeo is there to distract him with something new to clean or a level of small talk just the right side of tolerable.  

The conversation ebbs and flows between them, unforced and natural as if he and Romeo have known each other for far longer than they actually have. They talk about Romeo’s Christmas, his plans for the new year, what sort of job he would like. Until a moment when the subject turns to Romeo’s love life and Romeo shuts down. Clearly, it’s a sensitive topic. James files the knowledge away for later use, already planning to return the favour and help Romeo out if and when he needs it.

After all, they’re family.

…

They reward themselves with coffee from The Bean, the thought of something caffeinated and sweet having motivated them both through the worst tasks of the day. When James returns to the flat, he has to concede that the effort was worth it. The place is cleaner than it has been for months. He’d even taken on some tasks he thought he would never get around to; his filing cabinet has been reorganised, he’s hung some new art on the wall, and even moved some furniture around.

A new place for a new year.

He wonders if Harry would notice the changes…

Yes, the cleaning helped, but he still can’t escape thoughts of Harry sneaking up on him. With this realisation, James decides that he has to keep his word to Rome and go to the party. Clearly, he still needs to be distracted.

He makes himself a promise – if he can get through the night without losing his senses to thoughts of blonde hair and tanned skin then he’ll finally let Harry go. The countdown to midnight will be his self-imposed deadline and he’ll start the new year without the weight of lost love pressing down on his shoulders.

It’s as good a plan as any he has come up with lately…

…

The party is not as awful as he had expected. It’s still pretty dire – any party organised by the McQueens is – but even James has to admit that it’s better than staying in.

Mercedes hands him a glass of bubbly as he gravitates to where all the adults are congregated at the bar, out of the way of the flailing limbs on the makeshift dance floor in the corner. He makes small talk and, for a while, things seem almost normal. Or at least, as normal as they can be with everyone treating him with the sort of gentleness and concern normally reserved for people the villagers actually like.

Romeo bounds over at one point, cheeks flushed with drink and face split with a wide grin. James just about manages to stop his son from dragging him on to the dancefloor:

“Look, I’m making friends, I’m playing nice. No one here deserves to be traumatised by the sight of me ‘dancing’!”

“I bet Harry wouldn’t say that!” Romeo says.

He immediately clasps his hand over his mouth. James tries to school his face into an expression that isn’t one of absolute devastation as Romeo starts to apologise.

“It’s fine. It’s ok,” James reassures his son. “I’m going to have to go through life with people mentioning him. I can’t run away from this forever.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

It must be the drink – because the next thing either of them knows James has reached out and wrapped Romeo up in the world’s most awkward one-armed hug.

They stand there, neither of them really sure what to do.

“Okay?” Romeo asks quietly, muffling his voice in James’s shoulder.

“Yep,” James replies. “I should let go now right?”

He means the hug.

Definitely. That’s what he means.

When he and Romeo part, James goes back to the bar and avoids making eye contact with anyone. But when he does find it within himself to finally look up, Nancy is watching him out of the corner of her eye as if she is amazed that the great James Nightingale is actually capable of feeling human emotion.

He does so love proving people wrong. But right now, he regrets that he can’t hold on to his usual façade.  

…

Romeo disappears off for a while and for some strange reason James can’t bring himself to leave the party without saying goodbye to him first. By the time that he does the countdown to midnight is only a few minutes away. Romeo tries to persuade him to stay, but James demurs. Something within him knows that he needs to see in this new year on his own; to grieve the year last past in his own private way.

Romeo seems to understand. James is honestly so grateful to have a family member so perceptive. And he is grateful that he waited to say goodbye because Romeo tells him that James had dropped his keys and he had found them outside. He doesn’t ask what Romeo was doing leaving the party. He can guess that it has something to do with that disastrous love life of his and James doesn’t want to push him on that front. Romeo will tell him all about it when he’s ready.

When James returns to the flat the lights are on. He and Romeo must have left them like that by accident. The wasted electricity is a pain, but it’s strangely nice to return to a palace that’s not completely shrouded in darkness.

He enjoys the work he and Romeo have done for a little while, looking at all the changes they had made together. Now that his flat has been organised James feels a little more prepared to organise his life – to recalibrate himself so that he is back at the centre of his own universe, rather than Harry forming the axis on which his world turns.

He should toast the new year with the bottle of champagne he keeps in the fridge for emergencies.

In the kitchen, there is an unwashed mug in the sink that wasn’t there when he and Romeo left.

“James…”

The voice comes from behind him. He doesn’t even have to wonder who it is. No one else has a voice that can touch his soul so acutely.

He turns.

Harry looks good. Of course, he does. But it’s not just a physical thing – though the tan and the haircut are definitely working for him – it’s something about the way he cries himself. There is a confidence in him now that is so far away from the scared and uncertain boy James had last seen in this flat.

The Harry before him now is a man.

“James. I’m…”

James crosses the space between them in two large strides, grips Harry by the shoulders, and pulls him close so that they can finally, after so many weeks of longing, kiss.

Harry’s shocked into stillness for a few seconds and James presses against him. But then he melts, wonderfully, deliciously, into James’s touch. It’s been too long, but their bodies remember each other.

It’s Harry who breaks the kiss.

“James…”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts.

Harry’s face crinkles adorably in confusion. “That’s my line.”

“I don’t care. You’re back. Never leave me again.” Each sentence is punctuated with a kiss.

“You threw me out.”

“I’m an idiot. I was wrong. I’m so sorry, Harry.”

There is more kissing as James pushes Harry towards the sofa. He feels dizzy and weak at the knees. He needs something solid to lean against or he might faint. But more than that – he has a desperate and unshakable need to feel all of Harry pressed up against him. Harry apparently feels the same way, if his awkward attempts to wrestle James out of his jumper are anything to go by.

They pull apart for a moment so that they can move their offending clothes.

“How did you get here?” James suddenly remembers to ask.

“Romeo,” Harry admits. “He stole my number from your phone. Took your keys out of your pocket and let me in. Don’t be mad at him.”

“I’m not,” James says sincerely, “he gave you back to me. Best Christmas present ever.”

“It’s New Year’s,” Harry points out. “I wanted to come back sooner. I just… I needed time… I wasn’t sure…”

“And are you sure now?”

“More than I’ve ever been of anything in my life. I love you, James.”

James presses his own ‘I love you’ to Harry’s lips. And as they fall to kissing once more, in the distance a bell begins to chime.

“Kissing at midnight on New Year,” James points out. “You know what this means? We have to stay together now, for the whole year.”

“I think I can manage that,” Harry replies with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for a prompt generously given to me by @parryglasspools and also for day five of @happyjarryholidays on tumblr. Come find me there @brightingales for more jarry nonsense.


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